


Two Words

by kenaran



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Episode: s04e02 Six of One, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 19:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4933249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenaran/pseuds/kenaran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That ugly fight Bill and Laura had in "Six of One" just needed some kind of follow-up. (You might wanna skim a transcript if this doesn't ring a bell or some of the stuff here might not make much sense.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Words

**Author's Note:**

> First published: April 2008 (Survival Instinct)
> 
> I just watched the show a few hours ago. My brain wouldn't stop thinking about this so I had to put it down. I did so right now. I'll have to post it to be able to get some sleep, so here we go. No beta, obviously, nor much refining, so consider yourself warned.
> 
> Disclaimer: They're not mine, none of them. The show would be much happier and much duller if they were.

She had left his quarters early this morning, not wanting to face him and not wanting him to face her. Last night had been ugly. Yes, he had been drunk. He had also been right.

She had managed to get through Lee's farewell ceremony without looking at him once. Had felt his eyes on her, but refused to acknowledge them even though that had meant leaving rather abruptly.

She finished the rest of her day on auto-pilot. There was some benefit to slowly dying away after all – people tended to ascribe anything out of the ordinary to it, which made it a lot easier to hide away all the other things you didn't want anybody to see.

Still, she was relieved when she was able to call an end to the day's work and close the heavy steel door behind her, finally shutting them all out. Finally slumping against that same door. Finally being alone. 

If only his shift would never end.

She pushed herself up again and headed for her desk. A thick brown envelope was lying on it. No address, no nothing to identify it, which, of course, was more telling than anything else could have been. She didn't want to open it, didn't want to face its contents, didn't want to face anything. All she wanted was to just push it away somewhere she wouldn't have to see it anymore. If only that would mean not thinking about it anymore either. She knew it wouldn't.

The sudden tearing of the paper seemed to echo in the room. And then she was holding a framed photograph. A photograph just like the one that had until recently adorned the wall near the door. Minus one rather unattractive bullet hole. 

A small piece of folded paper was attached to it. Her fingers hovered above it for a moment before she flipped it open. Just two words: "Never alone."

If only his shift would end already.


End file.
